


The Dungeon

by karuvapatta



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Imprisonment, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Mid-Canon, Past Child Abuse, The Regent's POV, and canon character death, but it happens shortly after!, sadly the regent doesn't die in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 03:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9301163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karuvapatta/pseuds/karuvapatta
Summary: Laurent is taken to Ios and imprisoned. Uncle comes to visit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so unsure of this fic, haha. On one hand, it was an interesting exercise to write without mentioning the POV character's name, but on the other... the POV character is incredibly unpleasant. And the subject matter is unpleasant. And I think Laurent is being a *little* too emotional? Eh, idek.

The guards left promptly upon request, bowing on their way out. With the last sweep of the red cloaks over the threshold, they were alone.

Laurent didn't react. Still as a statue, he sat with his back stiff against the wall. Both his wrists were shackled to a heavy iron ring on the wall, the length of chain offering him considerable freedom of movement that he, stubbornly, ignored. He presented a miserable sight, his worn Akielon chiton offering little protection from the chilling air of the cell.

"Laurent."

He said nothing. Childish tenacity sat so unattractively on him, these days.

There really was no reason to be here. Tomorrow's trial would be a formality; Laurent would face it a broken man. To wreck him further was a game, an indulgence. Yet, as ever, impossible to resist. After all, the boy was full of surprises.

Despite the passage of years, his face was still unspeakably lovely. And for the first time in a long while it betrayed genuine emotion, from the dead look in wide blue eyes to the downturned corners of his perfect mouth, currently twisted in distaste.

"Uncle," Laurent said, voice hollow. "Congratulations. You won."

The admission was true – almost. There was still time for all his careful planning to come to ruin, and it was this "almost" that could topple an empire. But the satisfaction was a heavy feeling, warm and pleasant.

Laurent's skin was still perfectly smooth, over the slightly pointed chin and sharper features. Soft strands of blond hair tucked easily behind one ear, exposing his cheek to the dim torchlight. He barely flinched when touched, holding himself perfectly steady; not even his breath quickened.

"Are you this restrained with your barbarian?"

The question got a rise out of Laurent: a sharp inhale, and a flash of pain in his expression, passing quickly. His muscles remained tense.

It was almost too easy. It hadn't been this easy since Laurent reached adolescence, his mind catching up quickly with a boy's body, and then outgrowing it. But now, it was as if every protective layer had been stripped off him. Or, perhaps, shed willingly, at the behest of the fleeting fancy Laurent believed to be love.

"Do you think, then, that he will still want you?"

"Yes," Laurent said immediately. "Yes, I think he will. You won't take that away from me."

"But if you believed that, why not tell him sooner? It would have bought you instant sympathy. And I wouldn’t be able to use it against him."

It gave Laurent a pause, while he visibly struggled to maintain the air of indifference. But his eyes widened, vulnerable and lost; his face upturned. There was still a shadow of the boy he was right after Marlas, everything about him quietly pleading, before he let himself be consumed by bitter rage.

"I did not think you would do that," Laurent said, quietly.

"You are too sweet."

Were it not for the hand holding his chin, Laurent's head would drop, face obscured by the gleaming fall of his hair. Blush rose in his cheeks, part anger, part shame.

"So you feel nothing," Laurent said. "About me—and Nicaise—"

"And Aimeric. Tell me, nephew, what did you say to him that drove him to suicide?"

Laurent's face blanched, and he spoke sharply, "That was _him_ , that was _you_ , it wasn't my fault—"

"His father practically shoved him into my bed. You had to know this. And now poor Aimeric is dead. Sad, isn't it?"

Laurent said nothing, his chest rising and falling with every breath. His hands curled into fists. If he struggled, there would be a brief moment before the guards were alerted to the scuffle. Enough time, perhaps, to squeeze the life out of a man's neck. But senseless, unprompted violence was not in Laurent's character.

"You used him," Laurent said.

"Yes. And you broke him. But this is what you like, is it not? The game?"

To this, Laurent had no response, save for a weak and pathetic protestation he was smart enough not to voice. But it still hung between them, feeble, deserving nothing but a scornful laugh.

"You should know that you have outplayed me at times. I'm going to assume your barbarian talked you down from making mistakes. I'm also going to assume that while he did so, you honed your remarkable ability to talk people into making them."

Laurent's lower lip quivered. Some childlike innocence remained in that gesture – again, he was the spitting image of his fourteen year old self, seeking warmth and guidance, after it had been brutally taken from him. He had let himself be touched, and he let himself be moulded into what he was now. Only foolishness kept him from seeing it.

His soft, warm, perfect lips parted, around whatever it was he was planning to say. Clever, he could be so clever: cold and calculating. How rapidly he rose from a pawn, an indulgence, to an opponent that had to be carefully considered – how beautifully he played.

Laurent, sweet, precious Laurent, who bore every injustice thrown his way with a stone-faced expression: come morning, he would be dead. But a crown required sacrifice, and the price, steep though it may be, had to be paid.

It was almost a shame.

**Author's Note:**

> and then the Regent dies! \o/


End file.
